Seduction
by gizmo42
Summary: The Turtles get tempted by evil . . . PG for scary stuff.


# Seduction

### Part 1 The Temptation of St. Michaelangelo

  
  
  


Mike slept uneasily.

He turned under his old metallica sheets - the ones he got at the garage sale, for real cheep, he remembered; he never understood why the other guys never wanted to go rummaging with him.

He sighed. Thinking about the origins of his sheets wouldn't get him to sleep any sooner. He pulled them up to his chin and closed his eyes once more. Maybe this time he would go to. . . and Mike dropped into blissful unconsciousness.

He was floating down a wide river on a raft of his own making, a piece of timothy in his mouth and a straw hat on his head. 

_Ah, the Huck Finn dream,_ he thought. He smiled lazily and adjusted the grass in his mouth. "This is the life," he sighed to himself.

"Isn't it, though?"

Mike sat bolt upright, and looked around for the source of the voice. the only living thing he saw, besides a few butterflies, was a small brown rabbit, feeding near the river. It looked up at him, and said clearly, "Yes, this is the life you would want, isn't it, Michaelangelo?"

Mike just gaped at the rabbit. This was not supposed in this dream. _Let's see, _he thought to himself. _All that's supposed to happen in this dream is . . . _ no, this was definitely not supposed to be here. Mike felt a growing suspicion, that if this rabbit was who he thought it was, that not only was this the wrong dream, this was the wrong book!

"El-ahrairah?" he asked.

In answer, the rabbit made a spectacular jump from the back to land by Mike's feet.

"What do you think?" the rabbit said.

"Um. . . heh. This is. . . weird. What are you doing in this dream?"

"I come with an offer, Michaelangelo. You want this," he indicated the dreamscape with a paw. "Don't you?"

"Well, I mean, yeah, it'd be great, but. . ."

The rabbit looked up from washing its paw. "But what, Michaelangelo?"

"But nothing," Mike stood up and looked upstream. A sad look was on his face. "It's something I can't have. To have this kind of . . . freedom. . . is impossible for us. The world can't know we exist."

The rabbit finished its paw, and looked sideways at Mike. "And what if I told you it was possible? That you could have this kind of freedom? What would you give?"

Mike quickly turned to face the rabbit. "What do you mean, what would I give?" 

"Exactly what I said, Michaelangelo. What would you be willing to sacrifice for this freedom?" 

"Why, are you offering?" Mike asked sarcastically, in his best Raph tones. 

"Yes." 

Mike blinked. He hadn't expected the rabbit to. . . 

"Not what you expected, Michaelangelo?" the rabbit chuckled. "Yes, indeed, I am offering this freedom to you. . . for a price," he paused. "You just have to decide if you're willing to pay that price." 

Mike sat down again, and looked at the rabbit intently. 

"Well, before I decide if I want to pay it, I have to know what the price is." 

"Do you really, Michaelangelo? Is there any price you wouldn't pay to have this?" 

"What is the price?" Michaelangelo said coldly. He didn't like all this bantering. 

"Directly to the point then, eh?" the rabbit hopped closer to Mike. "Good, good. The price is. . . your brothers." 

"My brothers?" Mike exclaimed, horrified. 

"Oh, no, no, no, I don't mean kill them, Michaelangelo; just make a little deal to insure your safety. all you have to do is make one little phone call. . . and they will take your brothers someplace safe while you are free. . . to go." 

Mike slowly shook his head in horror. "I can't. . . I . . . you're not El-ahrairah! You're the freakin Black Rabbit of Inle!" 

A harsh, guttural laugh emanated from the rabbit. As it laughed, it started to go larger and darker, until it was at it was at least the size of Michaelangelo, with fur darker than blank velvet, and eyes as blood red as holly berries in snow. 

"And now you truly know who I am, Michaelangelo. But the offer still stands. Looks around you. Isn't this what you want?" 

Mike looked around at the scenery, and noticed that all movement around them had stopped, as if every living creature around was holding its breath, waiting for an answer. 

Mike looked back at the Black Rabbit, and the sat in a frozen tableau. It could be seen in Mike's eyes; he would make the call, he would gain freedom, he would serve the Black Rabbit. 

Then suddenly, Mike laughed, breaking the illusion. He stood up, shaking his head and chuckling, and looked out over the water. 

"One time Raph tried to bribe me with a pizza. He wanted me to do his chores," Mike turned and faced the Black Rabbit. "That was just washing windows! I said no to that, why would I possibly be tempted to betray my bros? No, Black Rabbit, the answer is no." 

And with that, the rabbit seemed to diminish in Mike's eyes; it was no longer a scary, threatening figure; it was just a harmless bunny rabbit. Mike turned to the edge of the raft, arched his back, threw up his arms, and dove in to the clear water. 

"Where are you going, Michaelangelo?" the Black Rabbit called after him. 

"I'm gonna go get a pizza!" Mike yelled. 

Asleep under his Metallica sheets, Michaelangelo smiled. 

  
  
  


Intermission

  
  


_It sat, perplexed. _

It had lost! It looked back over its strategy, trying to determine what the problem could have been. It could not find any faults; perhaps it was his choice of a fictional character that caused the problem. It chuckled. Of course, that was it. A fictional character couldn't hold that much influence of a real person. It would have to remember that for the next one. 

Thinking of the next one, it thought, it is about time. Now who shall I be? It scanned through several possibilities, finally settling on one. Yes, it thought, this one will be perfect to seduce. . . what was the name of that next freak? Oh yes, Leonardo.

  
  
  


### Part 2- The Temptation of St. Leonardo

  
  
  


Leonardo opened his eyes. He looked at the clock and sighed. why wasn't he able to meditate successfully today? Ah, well, perhaps tomorrow would go better. 

He lifted his single blanket - a blanket of deep blue, which he found calmed him and prepared him for sleep - and slid into his bed. He carefully positioned himself in the center, placing just half of himself to either side, perfectly symmetrical. He breathed once, twice, three times. . . and he was asleep. 

Opening his eyes, he found he was in a large room, with flags hung all around, the UN flag at the center. There was a large table, with many comfortable looking chairs around it, all of which were empty. Empty, that is, save one. In that one sat an older man, perhaps in his 60's or 70's, who smiled at Leonardo. 

"Welcome, welcome," the man said in a soft voice with a touch of an accent. 

Leonardo smiled in return, and approached him, taking the chair to his right. "Hello, Mr. Mandela. to what do I owe this honor?" 

The man laughed. "Honor? It is I, Leonardo, who am honored to meet you!" 

Leonardo did not know how to respond. How could this man know. . . 

"How do I know you, Leonardo? The answer is simple; a leader of your abilities does not go unnoticed." 

"Thank you, Mr. Mandela. Form you, that is high praise indeed." Leonardo stood up and bowed to him. 

The man laughed again. "Oh ho, and so self effacing! Yes, my boy, you do have potential!" 

"Potential? For what, Mr. Mandela?" 

"Forget this Mr. Mandela business, boy. Call me Nelson." 

"Yes, of course, Mr. M. . . Nelson. But I must ask again, potential for what?" 

"Why, for ruling, boy! A talent such as yours should not be wasted on a just a band of small time kung-fu freaks!" 

Leonardo winced at the calling of the practitioners of ninjitsu "kung-fu freaks" but he let it go and attempted to follow what the man was saying. 

"Yes, you could do so much more with real power!" 

"I must admit, I've always wanted to do more with politics. . ." 

"Politics? Bah!" the man spat on the rug. "Politics is the tool of fools! I'm talking about **real** power, boy!" 

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand." 

"No, you understand far better than you let on." 

"But I. . ." 

"Don't try to deny it!" the man slammed his hand on the table. When he spoke next, it was with an ugly sneer in his voice. "Oh, yes, you look on me, Nelson Mandela, as a great leader, a trailblazer. 'He leads his country to a new peace' you think. 'If only I could be like that,' you think. NO!" he roared, in Leonardo's face. "No, you can be much more than that. . . you have the ability to seize real power." 

"How?" it came out of Leonardo of its own volition, almost a whisper. 

"Simple . . . first you take the power from the rodent. . . "

"Splinter? No! I couldn't . ." 

"Quiet boy, until I finish! First you take the power from the rodent. Then the others will follow you, or perish. You will be able to use them. . ." 

"No! No! NO!" Leonardo shouted. "This isn't right!" he shot an accusing glare at the man. "The man who is the leader of South Africa, the man who fought oppression all those years. . . he would not say such things!" 

"No, perhaps he wouldn't," the man said, and then laughed. It was not a laugh of happiness or joy; it was the laugh of one who has known the purest of evils. 

With that laugh, the walls of the room began to crumble. The only wall that remained -- the wall behind the man -- shifted and changed until it was the cement side of a bunker. The flags fell in heaps, and began burning; all except the UN flag. It turned the red of a million peoples blood, while the circle in the center became a pure white. Then, like a horrible nightmare, a spider like symbol seemed to crawl out of the center, until it filled the circle. The man himself continued to laugh, then reached up and started tearing long gashes in his own face, chunks of rubbery flesh falling to the ground. Leonardo averted his eyes, only to see that the flags had turned into books, creating a burning pyre, whose flames leapt higher with every cackle from the man. Aghast, Leonardo looked back to the man, whose clothes had turned into a uniform, and whose face was that of one of the most hated and feared men in history. 

"Adolf Hitler," Leonardo whispered. 

"The same," the fuerer said with a smirk. "And now, I will tell you what is possible with true power -- the kind that I had -- the kind you could have." Leonardo opened his mouth to object. "Do not speak!" Hitler roared. Leonardo could not help complying, and closed his mouth. 

Hitler moved closer to Leonardo. "Now, as I was saying," he said in a cajoling tone, with only a hint of reproach in it, "you could have this power too. . . even more than I did. As I said, first you remove the current head of your little clan. . ." he paused to see if Leonardo would react, but he remained silent, "and the rest will either follow you or perish. Then you start using them to build your power base. . . reward the faithful, punish the sinners." 

"The faithful?" Leonardo finally managed to get out. 

"Of course!" Hitler clapped Leonardo on the shoulder. "Didn't you realize? With your form, and your fearful disciples, they will worship you as a god!" Hitler narrowed his eyes. "Of course, you will need someone to condemn as heretics. . . or better, a group of someones. I've found these pathetic wretches to work particularly well." Hitler gestured to the left. Leonardo looked, and saw a line of colorless people, a line which seemed to have no beginning and no end. They were emaciated beyond belief, and there was no life light in their eyes. They walked ceaselessly, neither looking up nor down, nor focusing on anything in particular, just walking. Leonardo felt an involuntary shudder pass through him, and looked back at the furer, who was grinning. 

"Of course, you can choose whomever you wish. It does not matter," he shrugged. "Eventually you will eliminate them and the rest of the sniveling populace will be firmly in your grasp. Then you will know TRUE power!" Hitler seemed to be enraptured by his own words. A fierce glint was in his eyes, and a twisted smile was upon his countenance. Then he seemed to marshal himself and when he spoke again, it was with less fervor. "Well, Leonardo, what do you say? Are you up to the challenge?" 

Leonardo looked at him. 

"That is no challenge." 

Hitler smiled broadly. "Mere child's play for someone of your talent, eh? Good, good!" 

Leonardo shook his head slowly. "No. What I meant was, that is no challenge; it is a crime. A crime against all humanity," Leonardo gestured expansively. "And a crime against all I've been brought up to believe. No," Leonardo drew his swords, "these will never be used for such a purpose." And with that, he smashed them on a rock, their pieces flying in all directions. 

Hitler sighed. "Not only does he give up his chance, but such horrible melodramatics. Tell me, who did you study under, William Shatner?" He cackled at his own joke. 

"I will not submit," Leonardo said, his face grave. 

"Well then," Hitler snapped his fingers. Two SS guards grabbed Leonardo by his arms. "I guess its time to die." 

The officers started dragging Leonardo backwards. He craned his head around, to see they were dragging him to a huge furnace, from which the stench of burning human flesh emanated. 

"Time to die. . . with them," Hitler spat. 

Just before the furnace door, Leonardo made a sudden movement. Both his captors lay upon the ground, and he stood tall over them. 

"Ahh, changed your mind, Leonardo?" Hitler leered. "It isn't to late, you know." 

"No, I just needed to say something. To die with these people. . . it is an honor. More than I deserve, more than I ever hoped for." 

Hitler gaped at Leonardo, unable to move. He continued to gape even after Leonardo's body had disappeared backwards though the door. Finally he shook his head and looked away. 

"Ah, well, there are still two more." 

Leonardo felt the flames engulf him, felt his flesh beginning to sear. . . and he woke up, under his blanket, cool, comfortable, and safe. 

  
  
  


Intermission

  
  


_It sat, no longer perplexed, but instead, becoming a bit peeved. _

Who did these creatures think they were? Very few ever held up under a direct assault from it, even with help. It had analyzed them perfectly. . . the first had wanted freedom, the second power, and this, the third, it wanted. . . 

It smiled broadly. Yes, this one would be easier. It was already bordering on the abyss, and what it wanted. . . 

It started off, spirits high. Love, after all, is the strongest emotion; or at least lust, it thought. That, and hate.

  
  
  


### Part 3 - The Temptation of St. Raphael

  
  
  


Raphael turned restlessly. His pain, his anger, these were the things he tried to deal with in the darkness of sleep. He had tried often, and failed often, but he did not give up. And sometimes, in sleep, he could even escape them for a while. 

"Raphael?" a feminine voice said, a voice that he knew all too well. 

He opened his eyes, knowing he would see no more than he had when they were closed; no light entered his room at night. The others had often razzed him about this; Don once had called him Scrooge, quoting the famous book: "Darkness was cheep, and scrooge liked it." But Raph didn't like the darkness for its inexpensiveness; he liked it for what it was. Things were safer in the dark. His fears couldn't find him as easily. 

But when he opened his eyes, he perceived a faint glow. Outlined in that glow was the woman who had often haunted his dreams, with her kinky red hair, her flashing green eyes. Raph felt more for her than he ever dared admit, even to himself. The only place he could was here, in his dreams, where it could do no harm. 

She was dressed in a white gown, long and flowing, with a modest neckline, and long flowing sleeves. Her hair was down, just the way he liked it best, and she glided towards him like a phantom. 

"Raphael," she intoned again in her softest tones. She knelt by the bed and ran a hand over his arm. 

"Oh, April," Raph whispered, and buried himself in her embrace. His shoulders shook, and he sobbed softly. 

"What is wrong, Rapheal?" she asked, running he hand over the back of his head. 

"It. . . hurts," Rapheal sobbed brokenly. 

"Oh, is there pain?" she crooned, petting the top of his head. 

"Yes," Raph whispered, barely audibly. 

"Oh Raph," she sighed, and they sat for a while, Raph silently sobbing. Finally she spoke. 

"There is a way to get rid of it, you know," she said. 

Raphael looked up, eyes full of pain, tears staining his cheeks. "How?" he asked. 

"Oh, dear, you're all upset," she crooned, and wiped Raph's tears with a corner of her hem. 

Raph grabbed her hand and looked in her eyes. "I asked how," he stated in his more customary tones. 

She yanked her arm away and turned her back to him, petulant. "If you're going to be like that. . ." 

"TELL ME," Raph said in a low, menacing voice. 

She turned back to him. "All right, all right," she said, exasperated. Then her tone changed completely. "Its really not so hard, Raph dear." Raph noticed that her dress had changed; the neckline was no longer modest by any standard, and it was much tighter than it had been. Instead of attracting him, however, it repelled him. Something was not right with this April. She sat down next to him. "Really not so hard at all," she crooned, and leaned toward him. 

He looked severely at her. "You don't sound much like yourself tonight, April." 

"I don't?" she looked amused. "I guess next time I'll have to study harder for the part." Her features twisted and changed. Her dress disappeared. Horns grew from her head, and she turned a volcanic red. "Does this suit my personality better, dear Raphael?" 

A dangerous look came into Raph's eye. "The Demoness of the Underworld." 

"Please, call me Vulvanna. Nobody does." 

"Hmmph." 

"I'm surprised you figured that out so quickly! It took the others longer." 

"Others?" 

"Oh, you know, all those countless others. . ." 

"Yah, I bet." 

"Anyway, Raphael, as I was saying, you could get rid of this pain that plagues you." 

Raphael sneered, "And as I said, HOW?" 

"It wouldn't be that difficult at all. . ." 

"I think we've gone over that." 

"All you have to do is remove the source." 

"And what is 'the source'?" 

"The source is those other creatures you hang around with. Leonardo, always telling you he's right, you're wrong; Donatello, always higher than you,. flaunting his intelligence; Michaelangelo, constantly berating you, putting you down; the rat, perhaps the worst of all, saying he'd be there for you, but never really helping." She glanced sideways at Raph. "And it would be so easy to remove the pain. . . a knife in the night, four quick splashes of blood. . . then you could go to your precious April, tell her the sad story of how there was a buildup of poisonous gasses in the sewer, how you were the only one to escape. She will take you in, feel sorry for you, and eventually be yours. Then, Raphael, there will be no more pain. No pain at all. You will be happy with your little woman by your side." 

"So simple," Raph said dully. 

"As I said," Vulvanna agreed, and smiled cruelly. 

"But you overlooked something," Raph said thickly. He stood up and looked at Vulvanna. His hindbrain recognized he was no longer in his room, but instead was in the underworld. A torii stood high behind the demoness. "A big something. I need my pain. How could I ever be happy without my pain to judge it by? I will not give it up, demoness. Even if it comes from my brothers as you say, even if it comes from my master - I will not give it up. I NEED MY PAIN." 

"Then I hope you truly enjoy it," Vulvanna screamed, enraged. "because that is all you will get here - and here is where you are staying!" 

"You think so?" Raphael sneered. Before she could make a move, he darted though the torii, and fell into the abyss beyond. 

Vulvanna watched as his form dwindled to a speck. 

Rapheal awoke in the darkness, happy. 

  
  
  


Intermission

  
  
__

In the darkness, it plotted. 

One left. 

It could not fail on this one. Perhaps its mistake had been the deception. They had all seen through it. . . and indeed, Raphael was more receptive after the deception had been dropped. It had been so close. . . 

It studied the profile of the last one. Yes, the direct approach was needed here. 

It could do it, it decided. It could get to this one before he asked for help. Just do it right. 

It laughed, then sat back and waited. 

  
  
  


### Part 4 -- the Temptation of St. Donatello

  
  
  


"Captains log, stardate 4193.2. Today I, Captain Donatello, take command of the Starship Enterprise. As I sit looking at her. . ." Don grinned sheepishly. He stared at the model of the NCC-1701 he had hanging from the light in his room. When it was dark like this, with only that little bit of bluish light filtering in from the outside, he could imagine that he was looking at the famous starship out in space. How cool would that be, he thought to himself. Ah, well, someday, he sighed. After I know a lot more than I know now. Everything, even. 

He turned over and closed his eyes. He hoped he would dream tonight. He didn't dream very often, but always enjoyed his dreams when he did. Cognitive thinking didn't leave him in his dreams; usually, he ended up controlling what went on (and in full Technicolor!) OK, empty your mind. You will be asleep in five counts. Five, four, three, two, one. . . and his breathing slowed down, and he was asleep. 

He felt his feet hit the ground before he could see it. It was dark all around him. He stood still, trying to let his eyes adjust. It was not totally dark, he realized, but instead had a slight pre-dawn glow. When his eyes did adjust, a desolate landscape was revealed. It was dry, barren, rocky. . . it looked a lot like Death Valley, in fact. He remembered the Star Trek where they had used a scene much similar to this; Kirk had been desperately fighting a reptile creature, with not only his life but the lives of his entire crew at stake. Don smiled at the thought. "But that was a TV show. This is the middle of a desert." 

"Quite right," said a voice behind him. Don whirled around towards the voice, and was greeted by a discrepancy. There, in the middle of the desert, was an office desk, with an office chair behind it, and a man in the chair. He looked to be in his middle thirties, with horn-rimmed glasses and a business suit. He looked up at Don. "I was wondering when you were going to arrive." 

"Where is this? And who are you?" 

"Hmm, such loaded questions. Well," with this the man leaned back in his chair, "I'll be direct with you, Don. I am what you would refer to as. . . well, for lack of a better term, the devil." 

"WHAT?" Don recoiled. Then he paused. "I get it. . . I'm dreaming. OK. So, you're the devil, huh?" 

The man smiled. "Yes." 

"Hmmm. Not exactly what I expected." 

"You want the horns, cloven hooves, pointed tail, trident, fire and the whole shebang, huh?" 

"No, actually, I guess it makes sense this way. The devil would be a lawyer." 

"Quite right, Don. Very good!" he laughed. "anyway, to answer your other question; this is. . . well, this is a piece of land I would like to acquire." 

"That's nice. May I ask what this has to do with me?" 

"I'll get to that," he paused. "What do you know about everything, Don?" 

"Huh?" 

"C'mon, I know you can come up with a more intelligent answer than 'huh'" 

'I mean. . . I don't understand exactly what you are saying." 

"What I am asking, Donatello, is what do you know about everything. Everything meaning," he leaned foward over his desk, "everything in existance, and even some things that don't exist. Everything." 

"Well," Don started, "I know a lot. I don't know everything. . . no one can know everthing. . . but I'm still learning new things all the time." 

The lawyer laughed. "How wonderfully naive. You see, someone can know everything. All that they need is a little help." 

"From you." Don said sarcastically. 

"Yes." 

"Of course, you just do this out of the goodness of your heart." 

"Now, don't be silly. This is not a free offer. Something must be given in return. As it is said, 'There is no such thing as a free lunch.'" 

"And you are offering me this help." 

"Very astute of you, Donatello! That kind of logic is why I chose to reveal myself to you instead of going through the usual dramatics," he paused. "Yes, I am offering this to you. Imagine, if you will, knowing everything. I do mean everything. . . actually, you have tasted this already. . . remember the turnstone?" 

"Yes," Don said quietly. "I also remember how I almost destroyed everything -- everything that is important to me -- with it." 

"Ah, yes, that was a problem. But, what I'm offering you will not destroy anything. . . it will merely allow you to know everything. That is all, no more, no less. The price is. . . not all that high, considering what you will gain." 

"And what is the price?" 

The man -- the devil -- looked out over the bleak landscape. Dawn was fast approaching, but the added light just made the landscape look more forsaken. "I said that I was interested in this property." 

"But. . . I've never seen this place before. What does it have to do with me?" 

The devil chuckled. "Donatello, it is you. This . . . place . . . is what you would call your soul." 

Don thumped down onto the ground as if he had been hit. This desolate place. . . my soul? But, its so ugly. . . and barren. . and. . . he could feel tears beginning to prick his eyes as he thought this. 

"Like I said, the price really isn't that high. I mean, look at this place!" he indicated the landscape with a wave of his hand. "Definitely a loss. But when you think about what you could trade it for. . ." 

Don just looked at him, tears in his eyes. 

"Perhaps. . . yes. A brief trial period, just to see how you like it? Think of it as a test run," and he waved his hand at Don. 

Suddenly, the universe folded into itself. The billions of little parts of the universe separated, and Don found he could look at every one in turn. Then just as suddenly, it snapped, and Don was sitting on the cold ground again. All he knew was a profound sense of loss. 

"So what did you think?" the devil grinned. "An exhilarating experience, no?" 

"Wonderful," Don managed to croak. 

"I knew you'd like it. So, do we have a deal? This piece of land, for understanding of everything? Not a bad bargain," he grinned. "I've already had all the papers prepared. All you have to do is sign." He held out a leaf of papers and a pen towards Don. 

Don took the pen in his hand. What should I do? he thought. My soul. . . everything. . . what should I do? He was in turmoil. What should I do? What should I do? Help! Help me! He poised his hand over the document. 

Just then, the first ray of sunshine shot over the horizon, and covered the landscape. Don blinked, and looked at the landscape again. The rocks seemed to glow in the light, some of them a sandy red-brown, others almost translucent. The sky was the full rainbow of colors. The beauty of it staggered Don. 

He dropped the pen on the ground. 

"You know," he said, "I think that I'll pass. I kinda like this property." He looked out at it again, then turned back to the now fuming devil. "And speaking of which. . . aren't you trespassing? This is my property. Get off." 

"WHAT? You impudent little. . ." 

"I said, GET OFF." 

The devil started toward Don, and began to change as he came, becoming a dark shadow with a humanoid figure inside it. But before it could get to him, it started to dissolve. "NO!!!" it screamed. "NOOoooo. . ." Then it was gone, and Don was alone. 

"I'd rather learn all that stuff for myself, anyway," Don said to no one in particular. "Lets see, now I'm going to need . . . well, this shouldn't be too hard, I am dreaming after all." 

Soon Don was seated on a comfortable chair, re-reading A Brief History Of Time, and watching the sun come up over his soul. 

In his sleep, Don sighed blissfully. 


End file.
